Hobson's Halloween
by Polgana
Summary: Toni Brigatti needs someone to fill in as her date on a Halloween stake-out. Guess who gets drafted . No spoilers. Thank's to Vicky Jo for the idea, help and encouragement.


Hobson's Halloween

By Polgana

Author's note:  This is in answer to the Halloween challenge and was inspired in part by a discussion I had with Vickie Jo a couple of weeks ago, and in part by a couple of country songs that I felt just fit too perfectly to pass up.  I own the rights to none of these characters, or the song lyrics, so I can only profit from your enjoyment.  Also, apologies to Rose for not asking in advance, but I enjoyed your answer to the challenge _way_ too much not to refer to it once or twice, where it seemed appropriate.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**"Hobson!"**

Startled, Gary Hobson almost dropped the tray of glasses he'd been carrying back to the kitchen.  One of his waitresses had called in sick, while another had pleaded for the night off to go to a Halloween party with her fiancé; leaving Gary to take up the slack.  Turning to find the source of that sharp, clipped voice, he wasn't at all surprised to see Toni Brigatti standing by the door; tapping her foot impatiently.

"Now what did I do?" he sighed, setting the tray on the bar.

Toni's smooth brow knit into a look of confusion.  "Nothing," she snorted.  "Why?"

"Well, you . . . I mean . . .  Never mind," he grumbled.  "What can I do for you, Brigatti?"

"I need to talk to you," the fiery detective stated in what sounded like an order.  "In private.  Now, Hobson," she added when Gary hesitated.

With a martyred sigh, Gary asked Graham, his bartender, to fill a handful of drink orders while he was 'indisposed.'  Wordlessly, he escorted the tiny Italian firebrand back to his office.  As she took a seat on the sofa, he asked if he could get her some coffee 'or something.'

"I'm not here to socialize, Hobson," Brigatti told him.  "I need a date."

"S'cuse me?"  Gary wasn't sure he'd heard that the way that she'd meant it.  In fact, he was positive he hadn't.  "Would you mind . . . sorta running that by me again?  I-I, ahm, coulda swore you just asked me for a date," he added as he perched on the edge of his desk.

"Then clean your ears out," the petite detective snorted.  "I didn't _ask_ for anything.  I _said_ I need someone to escort me to a Halloween party tomorrow night.  It's police business, so don't get your hopes up."

"I thought we'd been all through that," Gary mumbled irritably.  "You and I are not now, nor were we ever, 'socializing' in any way, shape or form.  We're not good for each other, Toni," he added with a forlorn sigh.  "We just . . ."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Toni snapped, holding both hands up to silence him.  "Were you even listening to me?  IT'S . . . NOT . . . A . . . DATE!  It's a stakeout.  Winslow broke his ankle yesterday and he won't be able to escort me to a Halloween party at the Hilton tomorrow night.  Armstrong suggested I ask you to fill in.  Don't ask me why.  It was his idea," she grumbled.

Not entirely, she admitted to herself.  Truthfully, she still recalled how handsome the dark-haired barkeep had looked in a tux.  Could the word 'stunning' be applied to a man, she wondered?  If so, he was over-qualified.

"Ahem, anyway," she continued, giving herself a mental shake.  "The two of you are almost the same size so his costume should fit you perfectly.  I'll bring it over tomorrow in plenty of time for you to get cleaned up and ready," she added as she stood to go.

"Wai-wai-wai-wait just a minute," Gary said, taking a step back and putting a hand up to stop her.  "I haven't agreed to anything, yet.  Wh-what kind of costume are we even talking about?  Not one of those goofy comic book heroes!  I'm _definitely_ not going as Tarzan!  It's gonna be in the low thirties tomorrow!  I'd . . . I'd freeze my loincloth off!" he added with an indignant glare.

"Relax," Brigatti sighed with a roll of her eyes.  "It's a full body costume that'll cover everything from neck to toe.  It even comes with a cape, so you'll be nice and warm.  C'mon, Hobson!  Be a sport about this!  Don't make me pull rank."

"What rank?" Gary grumbled, stepping back.  "I'm not a cop.  I'm not required to do this.  And you can't throw 'obstructing justice' in my face, either; 'cause I wasn't the one that came barging in this time."

"But you'll do it," Brigatti murmured, sensing victory.  She stepped closer, almost in his face as she forced him back another step.  "You'll do it because you can't pass up the chance to help someone.  You'll do it because you're an overgrown 'boy scout' who can't walk by a stranger without wondering if there isn't something you could do for him.  You'll do it because you're a 'nice guy' and I'm asking politely."

"You call _this_ 'asking politely?'" he grumbled, knowing she had him cold.  "I've been _mugged_ by people who asked nicer than that!  All right, all right!" he sighed, conceding defeat.  "I'll do it.  Just . . . just don't make me dress up in one of those hokey animal costumes, okay?  I had a really bad experience in one of those a few years ago."

"Trust me," Brigatti almost purred as she headed for the door.  "You'll fit this one like a glove."

Gary wondered what she'd meant by that last remark as he watched her stroll through the door with a little more . . . bounce to her step than when she'd come in.  What exactly was she up to, he wondered?  And how much of his dignity would he have to sacrifice?  

"Quirr-rr-rr-rr?"

Gary glanced toward the corner and saw the cat behaving strangely.  The orange feline was rolling around on its back and making . . . chuckling sounds?

"What're you laughin' at, furball?" Gary grumbled irritably.  He drew his head back and gave Cat a suspicious glare.  "You know something, don't you?"  He crouched down next to the chortling feline, shaking a finger at that smugly grinning face.  "You know what . . . C'mon, Cat.  Spill it.  What kinda trouble is she getting me into; and did you . . . What am I doin'?" he sighed, rubbing both hands over his face.  "You can't even talk!"

******************

The regular patrons of McGinty's paid no attention to the neatly dressed man who walked in the door that afternoon.  Newcomers, however, stopped what they were doing to stare as he walked up to greet his identical twin.  Puzzled, Gary glanced up at the clock behind the bar.

"You're off a little early, aren't you?" he asked as they walked towards the office.  "Or did you have business in this part of town?"

"I promised Dr. Carter that I'd keep tabs on you," Jake Evans replied with a tiny grin and a shrug.  "How're you feeling, Gary?" he asked quietly.  "Have you been keeping your appointments?"

"Once a week," Gary assured him.  "I'm fine, Jake.  Or I would be if I could figure out what Brigatti's game is.  Did I tell you she wants me to be her escort at a stakeout tonight?  Actually it's a Halloween ball over at the Hilton, but they've got something going down and . . . How do I let myself get talked into these things?" he moaned as he sank into his chair.  "She's supposed to bring my costume over in a little while and I'll just bet it's something ridiculous; like one of those things where you have to wear tights.  O-or some kinda animal.  It'd be just like her to make me a horse's . . ."

"I don't think they'd go for that at the Hilton," the banker chuckled.  "One person per costume is usually the rule.  If it's any consolation, Joanie and I'll be there, too.  Look for Zorro and his lovely senorita," he added with a flourish and a snap of his fingers.  He practically flung himself onto the sofa; stretching out full-length with both hands behind his head.

Gary studied his cousin a moment before commenting on his blissful mood.  "The cat's got nothing on you," he murmured.  "I'd almost _swear_ you were purring."

"I'm just in a really good mood for once," Jake grinned.  "We've really got to work harder at finding you a girlfriend, Gary.  There's nothing in the world like being in love."

Jake regretted his flip remark almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth.  Gary tried to hide his reaction, but his eyes betrayed him.  That was another thing the cousins had in common.  No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't hide their true feelings; which made things great for Jake Evans and Joan Gallagher, but hell for Gary Hobson and Toni Brigatti.  Well, for Gary anyway.  

"Gary, I'm sorry," Jake sighed, sitting up and planting both feet firmly on the floor.  "I keep forgetting you have this thing for . . ."

"I don't have a 'thing' for anyone," Gary grumbled, looking away and rubbing both hands briskly against his jeans.  "I've been over that for months."

"Ah-hah," Jake nodded sagely.  "Now, try the one about the baby polar bear sitting on the iceberg.  That 'tail's' been 'told' before, too.  Seriously, cousin, you two need to patch up your differences.  That's the only way you're ever gonna find out if you're in love, or just infatuated."

"And where do we start?" Gary sighed.  "The list is so long, by the time we got halfway down, I'd be ninety!  It's . . . it's just not meant to be, Jake.  I've known that for a long time, now.  So, um, what's got you in such a good mood all of a sudden?  Did Joan finally say 'yes'?"

"I think she's beginning to lean that way," Jake nodded, going along with the change in subject.  He didn't want to put Gary on the spot.  The barkeep had enough people meddling in his private life.  "We were having lunch together and she sorta . . . 'wondered' which one of us our kids would take after; if we had any, that is," he added with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.  

"Whoa, buddy!" Gary chuckled.  "Back up a minute1 Let me check the old crystal ball, here."  He picked up a glass paperweight and waved his other hand over it like a sideshow psychic.  "Wait.  Wait.  Here it comes.  Aha!  I see you in a tux, standing at . . . is that an altar?  Yes!  Definitely an altar!  You're looking back down the aisle as the music in the background swells.  And there she is.  Aw, man!  She's lookin' good!  All decked out in this stunning . . . not white," he added, creasing his brow and waving his hand in a seesaw motion.  "Sorta off-white, I guess.  We-ell that kinda makes sense.  I mean, she's not exactly a virgin . . ."

"Okay!" Jake laughed, rocking back and holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender.  "Okay!  You win!"  Still chuckling, he glanced at the clock on the wall behind Gary.  With a grimace, he jumped to his feet and started for the door.  "Oops!  I'd better hurry.  I have to pick up our costumes before the shop closes.  What time are you and Brigatti supposed to be there?"

"She called an hour ago and said she'd be bringing my costume over around six-thirty," Gary sighed, his good mood evaporating at the reminder.  "So, I guess we'll be there around seven-thirty; maybe eight.  Depends on how long it'll take me to struggle into that thing."  He didn't bother to add that the Paper had basically decreed that he had to be there no later than eight-thirty.  Trouble, it seemed, never took a holiday.

***********

"You've gotta be kiddin'!"

Gary's voice carried clearly from the bathroom, where he had gone to put on the costume Brigatti had shoved into his hands.  Toni was sitting on his sofa, flipping through a magazine.  She'd started to pick up the Sun-Times that had been lying there when she had first arrived, but Hobson had snatched it up so fast she was sure it was going to catch fire from the air-friction!  

"What's wrong with it?" Toni grumbled, not even looking up from the article.  "You wanted something that covered everything.  That covers everything."

"It's _spandex_!" Gary exclaimed irritably.  "That's almost like being naked!  Uh-unh!  No way am I going anywhere in this!"

"There wasn't anything else in his size," Brigatti sighed.  Laying aside the magazine, she turned to face toward the bathroom.  "Just put it on, Hobson.  We haven't got all night."

Gary grumbled something too low to be heard through the closed door, but Toni was sure it had something to do with someone's ancestors.  She picked up the magazine again as she waited for him to get dressed.  Secretly amused, she wasn't about to tell him that Winslow had chosen that costume at her insistence because it allowed her to go in a less elaborate outfit.  He had wanted to go as Prince Charming, but she had balked at the idea of wearing that frilly Cinderella outfit.  It would've taken her forever to get to her gun.  Plus, she'd thought Ken had looked pretty good in the skintight outfit. 

"You're gonna owe me big time for this, Brigatti," Gary grumbled from the doorway.  "Why couldn't they've given this guy boxer shorts, at least?  I suppose I should be grateful it comes with an athletic supporter.  This is . . . I feel ridiculous!"

Looking up, Brigatti had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at the spectacle of Gary Hobson, overgrown Boy Scout, standing there in a skintight blue spandex bodysuit, complete with bright red briefs and a flowing red cape.  The shimmering material hugged every plane and curve of his tautly muscled body.  A big read 'S' on a yellow background spread across his broad chest.  The costume was a perfect replica of the one used on the TV show; right down to the red leather boots.  And Hobson filled it just . . . _fine._  

"You'll do," she told him with a shrug.  Tossing the magazine on his coffee table, she grabbed her purse and a 35mm camera with which she quickly snapped a picture of him.  If she'd known Hobson would look that good in the outfit, she'd have broken her partner's leg herself!  Ignoring Gary's startled protests, she slung purse and camera straps over her left shoulder.  "C'mon.  We'll take my car."

"Whoa!  Wait a minute?" Gary snapped, his hackles rising in suspicion.  "Where's your costume?  Aren't you gonna change, too?"

Brigatti looked down at her neatly tailored outfit, a beige suit and matching shoes.  "I _am_ in costume," she told him with a tiny smirk.  "Whoever heard of Superman going anywhere without Lois Lane?"

***********

Gary fidgeted with the red 'domino' mask that came with his costume as they waited for the valet to collect Brigatti's car.  They'd been waiting for more than ten minutes.  He looked over to where she stood in her neatly tailored outfit and a heavy ankle-length coat.  She wore a tiny black mask that seemed strangely appropriate, to his mind.  After all, she _had_, basically, shanghaied him!  On the plus side, it saved him from possibly having to crash the party at the last minute.  With his luck, the only thing the shops would have left would be Big Bird.  'Or worse,' he thought, barely suppressing a shudder.  '_Barney!_'

"You were right," the petite detective commented with a shiver.  "It's freezing out here!"  She looked over to where Gary was hugging the cape tightly around him and trembling.  The large garment looked warm, but it was actually made of a very lightweight material that provided almost no protection from the icy winds.  Hobson was starting to look as blue as his costume.  "Why don't we wait inside?" she asked, finally taking pity on him.

"S-s'okay," Gary murmured.  He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other in order to keep his blood from freezing in his veins.  "H-here he c-comes.  S-since you're L-Lois L-L-Lane, why c-c-couldn't I have been C-Clark K-Kent?  Hhhe at least g-got to wear a c-coat!"

"Nah!" Brigatti replied, shaking her head and scrunching her nose in distaste.  "We'd 've looked too much like a cop and a stockbroker.  Besides, you look pretty good in tights!"

Gary shot her a look that could've melted the polar icecaps.   At least, she noted gleefully, it brought some color back to his cheeks.  He mumbled something that she was sure he never learned in church as he hugged the cape even tighter to his shivering frame.

"The least you c-coulda done was come as 'W-Wonder Woman'," he grumbled irritably.  "I w-woulda let you wear a c-coat 'til we got here."

"And just where would I hide my gun?" Brigatti snorted.  "Besides, I'm a little short to be playing an Amazon Princess, doncha think?"

The valet finally collected her keys and they went into the main lobby.  For some reason, Gary avoided the revolving door in favor of a regular one just off to the side.  "Long story," was all he said as the attendant took her coat.  

They ascended the broad staircase up to the Grand Ballroom where Gary quickly spotted a few familiar faces.  Jake and Joan waved discreetly from the other side of the room then went on with their conversation with 'Catwoman.'  There was Armstrong dressed up as Wesley Snipes character in 'Blade.'  He was dancing with another detective who had come as a medieval princess.  Throughout the room he counted another half-a-dozen cops that he knew by name.  Most of them had either arrested or detained him for one thing or another.  Whatever was going down, they were pulling out all the stops!  He wondered again just what had he gotten himself into!

Brigatti gave only cursory acknowledgement to her fellow officers, grimacing in distaste at the music coming from the band.  The annual charity event had attracted several big name stars to perform.  They were now playing some kind of Country/Western swing. The few couples actually dancing to it seemed to be enjoying themselves, though, she observed. 

"Dance with me, Hobson," she told her companion in a tone that left him little doubt that it was an order.

With a sigh, Gary draped the long red cape over his left arm and escorted her onto the dance floor.   He quickly fell into the rhythm of the song and almost forgot why they were there as he led Brigatti through a lively Texas Two-step.  It had been a long time, he realized, since he had danced simply for the sheer enjoyment of it.  

There came a break in the music and Brigatti pulled him to a halt.  Breathless, her face flushed from the exertion of keeping up the energetic pace, she stared up at her dance partner with new respect.

"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" she huffed.  

"High school," Gary shrugged, the corner of his mouth flickering upwards as he tried not to grin.  "Didn't they ever teach you to Square Dance?"

"I went to parochial school," the detective snorted.  "Strictly ballroom dancing; but I do a mean 'Salsa.'  I'll have to show you sometime," she added with a grin.  "Now, if you can keep both feet on the floor during this next one, could you steer me over to 'Robin Hood' and 'Maid Marion' over there?  He's nobody, but she's a protected witness who jumped ship in Arizona.  She's agreed to go back and testify, but only after she's had a chance to say good-bye to an old boyfriend.  Until then, we have to birddog her every move."

"She must really love him," Gary mused as he guided Toni into a waltz to the tune of 'The Keeper of the Stars.'  It was a moderate tempo that called for a full orchestra and allowed a few flourishing movements.  The couple in question took full advantage of it as he twirled her around the dance floor, lost in each others eyes.

Gary wistfully recalled that he and Marcia had once been that happy; or so it had seemed to him.  She'd loved to dance and he had loved making her happy.  How, he wondered, could he have missed all the signs?  How could he not have seen the moment that her love for him had died?  Had it ever been there in the first place?  Had he been fooling himself from the very start?  Sadly, his gaze returned to his partner, who was still watching the other couple.  Unconsciously, his lips began moving silently as the rich voice of the singer flowed into the final chorus.  Startled, Toni looked up at the sound of his voice and, as he gazed deep into her rich brown eyes, his voice rose to a barely audio murmur, as if singing for an audience of one.

_I tip my hat to the Keeper of the stars_

_He sure knew what he was do-oo-ing_

_When He joined these two hearts_

_I hold everything when I hold you in my arms_

_I've got all I'll ever need_

_Thanks to the Keeper of the stars!_

_It was no accident_

_Me loving you_

_Someone had a hand in it_

_Long before we ever knew._

"Ease up, Hobson!" Brigatti hissed, snapping his attention back to the present as the music faded to silence.  "We're not supposed to be attracting attention.  This isn't a dance contest, ya know."

Puzzled at her irritation, Gary looked around to the sound of thunderous applause.  That was when he realized that he and Toni were the only ones left on the floor.  Everyone else had stood back to watch as Gary had led his partner through a dazzling display of grace, balance and skill.  Blushing furiously, Gary ducked his head in acknowledgement and quickly led a sweetly smiling Toni over to the punch bowl.  As he did so, he noticed Armstrong out of the corner of his eye.  The big detective was clapping along with the others, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Don't tell me you learned _that_ in high school!" Brigatti snapped irritably.  Truthfully, she had been enjoying herself _way_ too much!  Damn!  Hobson could _dance_!

"My, um, m-my ex," Gary stammered as he accepted a cup of punch from the waiter.  "She liked to . . . I mean, she said it would be . . . be good for us to know; t-to socialize with, um, with all the 'right people,' ya know?"

"So why'd she leave you?" Toni asked in genuine bewilderment.  If all the woman had wanted was a good looking guy who could dance like Fred Astaire, why would she even bother looking any further?

"I guess I wasn't . . . 'right' enough," Gary murmured distractedly.  He shifted the cape to a more comfortable position, stealing a glance at his watch as he did so.  It was almost time for him to head to the roof.  Looking around for something to divert Toni's attention, he saw that Jake and Joan had taken over the dance floor.  Jake cut a dashing figure in his Zorro outfit and Joan, with a long black wig covering her own mousy brown hair, looked radiant as they swirled across the floor.  Then Gary noticed that 'Robin Hood' and 'Maid Marion' were nowhere in sight.  "Where'd they go?" he murmured out loud.

"Where'd who . . .?"  Toni spat a muffled curse as she realized who he was looking for.  The witness and her boyfriend had vanished.  "Armstrong!" she snapped into her lapel mic.  "Can you see them?  No, dammit.  I let myself get . . . distracted," she added, giving Hobson a venomous look.  She started scanning the room, hoping to spot the couple.

Gary took that opportunity to pull a single sheet of newspaper from a hidden pocket in the cape.  Quickly skimming the article, the color drained from his face as he saw two more names had been added to the list of fatalities!  He reached over and tugged on Brigatti's sleeve.

"We gotta go to the roof," he told her.  "Now!"

The detective rolled her eyes before turning to give him a scathing look.  "I'm in no mood for romance, Hobson," she growled.  "Our witness just flew the coop; again."

"No-no-no," Gary stammered stuffing the Paper back into the cape.  "She's in trouble.  Both of 'em!  We gotta hurry or they'll be killed!"  Not waiting for an answer, he ran for the elevators; leaving a dumbfounded detective to stare at his billowing cape.

For once, luck was with Gary as he got to the bank of elevators just as 'Han Solo' and 'Princess Leia' stepped out of one.  He quickly ducked in and hit the button for the top floor before anyone else could appear.  The car only made two other stops as people got on and off for a private party in one of the penthouses.  Frustrated by that stupid, itchy mask, Gary ripped it off and stuffed it into the pocket that still held the Paper.  Finally, the doors slid open to reveal the top floor hallway and Gary bolted for the emergency exit; the cape flowing behind him.  A gust of wind almost knocked Gary back down the stairs as he pushed open the door.  It caused the long cape to billow and snap as he stepped onto the tarmac and cinder roof.  

Gathering the troublesome garment and wrapping it around one arm, Gary looked around for the missing couple . . . and her two children.  The wind howling around the various pipes and protuberances was not helping at all.  Plus, it was _cold!_  Why did it have to be so blasted cold?

A shrill cry caught Gary's attention.  It had to have come from upwind, otherwise he could never have heard it; it was so faint.  Bracing himself, Gary ran in what he hoped was the right direction; praying that he wasn't too late.  A man's voice raised in a frantic plea told him that he had chosen correctly.  Working his way around a utility room, Gary found himself out of the wind . . . and face to face with trouble.

Two men dressed as Storm Troopers from 'Star Wars' stood facing the couple; their helmets on the roof by their feet.  The weapons in their hands didn't look like movie props, however.  Twin automatics menaced the couple who were wrapped protectively around two small children.  Gary barely had time to notice that the children were a boy and girl of about seven years of age.  He unfastened the cumbersome cape from the neck of his costume and flung the end of it into the face of one of the gunmen with a _snap-crack_; knocking the man backwards a few steps.  At the same moment, Gary grabbed the other man by the shoulder and spun him around.  He then struck the would-be-assassin with a right to the jaw that had all of his weight behind it.  As the man went down, Gary bent and scooped up one of the helmets and slammed it down, rendering the man unconscious.  He then turned . . . to find the other gun pointed straight at his chest.

"Somehow, 'Superman,'" the remaining assassin grinned, "I don't think you're bulletproof."  He brought the muzzle of the pistol up and pressed it into the soft flesh of Gary's throat.

Helpless, Gary could only stand there, chest heaving from his recent exertions, as the cold metal burned against his skin; the pressure under his chin forcing his head back at a painful angle.  He could almost hear the muscles tense as that finger began to tighten around the trigger.

By that time, however, 'Robin Hood' had recovered from his surprise at the sudden turn of events.  He jumped on the back of the gunman, knocking all three men to the roof just as a loud report echoed in the sudden stillness.  Grabbing the other helmet, he followed Gary's example and rendered the remaining gunman unconscious.  Only then did he turn to see if his unexpected rescuer was still alive.

The woman was already there.  She had seen 'Superman's' head hit the rooftop with stunning force and, cautioning her children to stay close, had rushed over to kneel by his side.  To her relief, his eyes were already starting to flutter open.  

"Is he okay, Momma?" Gary heard the little girl ask as if from a great distance.  "He's not gonna die, is he?"  That sounded like the little boy and he was definitely getting closer.  Blinking his eyes open, Gary stared up at the ring of anxious faces.  The two children were staring at him; mouths hanging open in wide-eyed amazement.

"I-I'm okay," Gary mumbled, gently pushing aside the woman's restraining hands as he struggled to sit up.  "Are you guys all right?  No one hurt?" he asked as he tried to rub a kink out of his neck.  He winced as his hand found the tender spot where his head had met the tarmac.  

"We're fine, thanks to you Mr. . .?" 

"Th-that's good," Gary stammered, ignoring the man's implied question.  He stared at the two would-be-assassins a moment, wondering what to do with them until he could get the police up there.  He looked up at the anxious faces of the children.  "Do, um, do you think one of you could go down to the Grand Ballroom and find either Detective Armstrong or Detective Brigatti?  Let 'em know that you're safe and that I could use a little help taking these two in?" he elaborated.  He quickly described how they were dressed.

"We'll go," the woman promised.  She stood and gathered the two children close to her and, pausing only long enough to snatch Gary's cape from where it had fallen and wrap it around him, herded them toward the nearest stairwell.

As the three disappeared from sight, Gary was sure he heard the little boy ask, "Mom, was that _really_ Superman?"

Gary hugged the flimsy garment around him as he eyed the two thugs.  When one began to stir, he calmly picked up one of the helmets and sent him back to sleep.  He turned to find 'Robin Hood' eyeing him speculatively.

"So, you're a cop, too?" the other man finally asked.

"Naw," Gary mumbled, giving the other thug a clout when he began to stir.  "I'm just a last minute substitute.  They needed one more to keep the numbers even."

'Robin Hood' nodded sagely; as if he didn't quite believe Gary.  He had gathered both guns and now held them loosely in his hands.  Gary had the feeling, from the way he was staring at their two assailants, that he wouldn't mind using them.  He decided it might be best to keep him distracted.

"So," Gary murmured, looking at 'Robin Hood' from the corner of his eye.  "What were the four of you doing up here?"  

"Well," the stranger grinned, "while you were hogging the dance floor, Sharon decided to check on the kids.  When we got to the room, the babysitter wasn't anywhere around and neither were the kids.  Joey had wanted to see the city from the rooftop, so that's where we headed first.  We'd just caught them getting ready to crawl over the railing for a better look when these two showed up.  We'd be jelly on toast if you hadn't . . . God!  Just thinking about it makes me sick!  I don't know how we'll ever thank you!"

"Just take care of them," Gary replied with a sigh.  He gave the other man a knowing look.  Gary didn't need a crystal ball to see wedding bells in _someone's_ future!  He turned to look carefully over his shoulder at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name impatiently.  "Over here!"

"Damn, Hobson!" Toni Brigatti snapped as she strode briskly into view, Armstrong not two paces behind her.  "I can't let you out of my sight for a minute!  Patterson said you were hurt," she added in a _slightly_ softer tone as she knelt to examine the lump starting to rise on the back of Gary's head.  "Oo!  That has to hurt!" she winced.  "We'd better get you to the hospital and have you checked out."

"You stay with the 'Boy Wonder' while I go call an ambulance," Armstrong instructed the petite detective.

"That's 'Robin,'" Gary corrected him, wincing as Toni continued to probe at his contusion.  "I'm the 'Man of Steel.'  And I don't need an ambulance!  I'm fine!"

"Well, 'Man of Steel,' hold still for a minute." Brigatti mumbled.  "You've got quite a dent back here.  At the very _least_ you're gonna need to put something on it.  Let's get you inside before you freeze your briefs off," she added with a grin.

"I'm fine, really," Gary protested, although he flinched at her gentle touch.  He hesitated as her warm touch sent a tiny shiver down his spine.  He found that he really didn't want the evening to end so soon.  "B-besides, this is the first time I've been able to really cut loose on the dance floor in ages and I sorta miss it.  I'm not leaving 'til I get one more dance," he added stubbornly.

"_Hobson!_" Toni growled in a warning tone.

"Give the guy a break!" 'Robin Hood' snapped.  He glanced over to where two costumed officers were cuffing the prisoners.  "He just saved our lives.  Don't you think you at least owe him one more dance?"  He paused to take a closer look at Gary's head.  "A slow one, maybe," he advised with a grimace.  "She's right.  You need to see a doctor."

"All right!  All right!" Gary sighed, admitting defeat.  He knew when he was out-numbered.  "One more waltz and then I'll go peacefully.  Deal?"

"Deal," Brigatti sighed.  He couldn't be hurting too badly, she figured.  It would take a lot more than a rooftop to dent that hard head of his.

*************

As they entered the foyer, Gary could already hear the orchestra starting up for the next performer.  He recognized the song as one that he had loved, but Marcia had refused to dance to.  The original artist had been a male.  Tonight, though, the performer was a young woman who sang in a clear, breathy alto.  They entered the ballroom just as she brought the microphone to her lips.  Gary began to smell some type of collusion as she stared right at them . . . and smiled.

_It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_

_Without saying a word you can light up the dark_

_Try as I may, I could never explain_

_What I hear when you don't say a thing._

Without any warning, Gary swept Toni Brigatti onto the dance floor just as the music swelled into the chorus.  He knew now why Marcia had never liked this song.  To her, it was a lie.  He now realized that the two of them had not shared even half the rapport that he had with the woman he now held in his arms.  Staring into her eyes, he finally admitted to himself that he could never love anyone else the way that he loved her; the woman he _couldn't_ love.  His heart aching for the future they would never have, he gave himself over to the music, and the moment; it was as if the whole world had shrunk down to just the two of them.  He never even noticed that, soon, as before, they were the only couple on the floor.

_All day long I can hear people talking out loud_

_But when you hold me near, you can drown out the crowd_

_Old Mr. Webster could never define_

_What's being said between your heart and mine _

Toni's head whirled in confusion.  This was wrong; she knew that.  She and Hobson had no future together.  He was too secretive and she too suspicious.  It would never work, she told herself.  There was too much history between them . . . and too much pain; too many mistakes that could not be forgotten . . . or forgiven.   Yet, as she looked up into those solemn mud-puddle green eyes, she found herself wishing . . . If only their lives had been different.  If only . . . 

_The smile on your face let's me know that you need me_

_There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me_

_The touch of your hand says you'll catch me whenever I fall_

_You say it best when you say nothing at all_

As the couple glided smoothly across the dance floor, their solemn gazes locked in a wordless communication that transcended even the barriers of their own hearts, the music swelled into the finale.

_You say it best . . . when you say nothing at all!_

****fin****


End file.
